


not a test, nor a trick of the mind (only love)

by badtemperedchocolate



Category: Bon Appétit Test Kitchen RPF, Chef RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 19:36:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20981252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badtemperedchocolate/pseuds/badtemperedchocolate
Summary: In the end, it's Hunzi's fault. Sort of.(or: Claire hears something she wasn't meant to)





	not a test, nor a trick of the mind (only love)

**Author's Note:**

> this is entirely, 100% fiction.

(Later on, when Claire explains what happened, she accuses Hunzi of doing it on purpose. 

He didn’t.

It was an honest mistake; he was in a rush, and he just happened to save the file in the wrong place.

When he realizes what happened because of it, though, Hunzi admits: if he’d thought of it, he’d have done it on purpose, a long time ago.)

* * *

The editing bay in the Bon Appétit offices is small. Dan and Hunzi have their own setups at home, of course; this one’s used more for basic editing, small-scale projects, anything they want to tackle while they’re at the office instead of waiting to leave. They’re also in the habit of copying raw footage to its massive external drive; they’re both way too cautious not to worry about accidentally deleting something they can’t find again.

Claire finds Dan sitting there one afternoon. “Hey. You have a minute?”

He pulls off his headphones. “Sure.”

“Do you have the footage from yesterday on here?”

He nods. “You want to see?”

“Can I?” Her eyes brighten. “The dough just had kind of a weird texture, you know? It ended up tasting fine, but I wonder if maybe it looked different on camera. I still can’t figure it out.”

Dan grins. “But it’s bugging you, right?”

“Yes.”

“Of course it is.” Dan opens a few folders, drumming his fingers on the desktop. “Ah, okay. This is just raw footage, but the lighting was good, so hopefully it’s what you’re looking for.”

He pulls up the video and hands her his headphones. “Here, sit. I’m gonna go get lunch.”

“Thanks.”

* * *

It doesn’t help.

Her dough looks totally normal in the digital footage, and even slowing it down and changing the brightness doesn’t clarify anything. As weird as it had felt under her fingers, it looks like it should. Claire sighs. So much for that idea.

So she closes the video player, revealing the _Gourmet Makes_ folder. It’s full of video and audio files, and she can’t help but grin at the memories those titles bring back. _starbursts2_. _poprockscut_. _hotpockets Claire mic copy_.

_IA brad post_.

Wait.

Why is that in the Gourmet Makes folder?

It’s an audio file, and she only briefly pauses before opening it. No reason not to, right?

It’s in her show’s folder, after all.

(She refuses to admit that she’s just curious.)

When she hits ‘play,’ the first blare of sound makes her flinch. It’s Brad’s voice, of course. The man can drown out a blender. She’s heard Hunzi and Vinny complaining about how loud Brad’s voice is. But it’s one of the things she secretly likes best about him. She knows his voice, clear as day. She’d know it anywhere.

This audio must be from mid-episode somewhere; she doesn’t know what the recipe is, but Brad’s talking about some kind of seasoning. He’s rambling, as expected. She likes that, too. She’s never worked with anyone else who discussed the Illuminati stealing DNA while trying to make doughnuts. But she also doesn’t have any other friends who are so concerned about her getting murdered while camping, and she can’t help but think that’s important.

Hunzi’s voice comes in, slightly more muffled, since he’s not wearing a lapel mic. _Cut, cut_. There’s a rustling sound, something in the background, and then she hears Hunzi again. _You’re off today. Something wrong?_

Brad coughs. _Nah, I’m fine_.

_Do I need to go get Claire?_

She sits up, frowning.

_What the hell does that mean?_ Brad sounds just as confused as she is.

_C’mon, Brad. You light up when she’s around._

_You’re fulla shit, Hunzi._

_Oh, come _on_. We all know you’re in love with her._

But instead of the surprised laugh she’s expecting, Brad’s just…quiet.

It’s a joke, right? It has to be a joke. There’s no way –

(Why isn’t he laughing?)

_Are you ever gonna tell her?_ Hunzi prods.

_She don’t feel that way about me, Hunzi. Let it go_.

_But what if she does?_

_She doesn’t._

_Brad –_

_If I thought for a second that she might –_ Brad chuckles, but it’s softer. Rueful. _She’s way outta my league, bud. We’re not even in the same ballpark. I’m just some funny idiot who builds shit for her._

_But you admit you’re in love with her?_

There’s a long pause. Claire holds her breath. When he finally speaks, Brad’s voice is quiet.

_How could I not be?_

She rips off the headphones and drops them on the desk like they’re burning. Her heart is hammering in her chest.

She was never supposed to hear this.

Claire wipes her hands on her apron reflexively. Brad’s voice is ringing in her ears, so much more subdued than usual.

(But she _never knew_ -)

Claire pushes up out of the desk chair, takes a deep breath, and walks resolutely towards the elevator.

* * *

When she walks into the kitchen, Brad’s filming. Yet again, she has no idea what he’s making. He’s mid-sentence when she walks in behind Hunzi, gesturing wildly to half a dozen little bowls set out in front of him.

Claire slips in unnoticed and watches for a while, taking the time to try and regain her equilibrium. Her thoughts are still whirling, and she focuses on her breath, centering herself for a moment. She just needs to calm down.

Brad, meanwhile, is absorbed in explaining the myriad of spices in front of him, and Claire folds her arms, content to watch silently as she tries to calm her racing heartbeat. He’s the personification of chaotic energy, but she’s always known better than to dismiss him; what he does, he does incredibly well.

And how many times has she looked up from her station, called him from across the kitchen? He comes running every time, along with his power tools or his portable fans or his garlic or his inexplicably perfect wafer recipe. In a kitchen where nothing is the same two days in a row, Brad is her one constant.

And the _thing_ that she’d thought was nothing, just a harmless crush that would fade away into a soft, easy friendship, has crept out from its confines, rooting itself under her skin and blossoming until it’s immovable and immutable and as much a part of her life as he is.

She’s doesn’t know how long she’s been standing there nursing the waves of fond affection that are threatening to knock her over, but she keeps watching Brad waving his arms, gesturing wildly at bowls of spice and the proofing ovens and what seems to just generally be the sky.

He’s mid-ramble when he catches sight of her, and his whole face lights up.

She catches her breath, her heart stuttering against her ribs, because it’s so obvious. It’s written all over his face as clear as day, but this is how he always looks at her and she can’t breathe because _how did she never see it before this?_

He seems to catch himself, goes back to whatever he was talking about, but Claire can’t stop looking at a man who’s so blatantly, obviously in love but has _no idea how she feels_.

Without another thought, she walks directly into the shot, ignoring Hunzi’s confusion.

Brad turns and looks down at her, clearly bewildered. “Uh – Claire?”

Before she can stop herself, she reaches up and curls her hands around his neck, tugging him down, and she presses up on her toes and kisses him.

She’s distantly aware of shocked gasps in the background, but then Brad’s hand comes to cradle her face, and everything else falls away.

He kisses her back and there’s no hesitation. He kisses her like he’s been wanting to do it for years, burying his hands in her hair, turning her face up to his. He kisses her like he’s been waiting to do it. Like he’s dreamed of this happening.

He kisses her like he’s been in love with her longer than anyone realized.

When she finally lets go, her eyes flutter open to find Brad looking at her, wide-eyed and open, and there’s utter shock on his face, but there’s lightness, too, like he’s just stumbled into a kind of joy he wasn’t expecting.

She has no words, none at all, and as she’s searching for them, Claire suddenly realizes that it’s weirdly, unnaturally silent.

A glance around shows her that everyone – the entire kitchen – is staring at the two of them, open-mouthed. Molly’s at her station, one hand holding a whisk, the other covering her mouth. Chris and Delany look like they can’t believe what they’re seeing. Carla’s beaming, her eyes wide.

Hunzi’s the first one to break. He lets out a short laugh, more disbelieving than anything, and mutters “Holy _shit_.”

And the kitchen erupts in chaos.

Everyone descends on them, chattering and gasping and saying _I knew it_ and _It’s perfect_ and _I’m so happy_, and it’s all too much to take in.

Claire buries her face in Brad’s chest, smiling into his apron. He wraps his arms around her, warm and strong, and she feels him press a kiss to the top of her head and it’s so simple but her throat aches and her eyes sting because she’s never felt so totally and completely _loved_.

Their friends are all around them, but Claire shuts her eyes, breathes in the strong, woodsy scent of him, and there’s nothing in the world but the two of them.

* * *

Once the hubbub has died down, everyone has gone back to their respective stations, and Brad remembers that there was something he was doing before Claire walked into his shot, Hunzi calls for another take.

Brad makes an attempt at continuing, but after he loses his train of thought four times in a row and knocks over two of his spice blends, Hunzi just sighs, recognizing a losing battle when he sees one.

It’s not like Brad’s focus is stellar on the calmest of days, anyway.

“Oh, fuck it. Cut. We’re wrapping for today. Just take Claire and get out of here, okay?”

* * *

As they stand outside the elevator, Claire slips her arm through his, leaning against the solid bulk of his huge frame. “Where are we going?”

She only means it literally, but the softness in his eyes tells her he’s thinking about it just like she is. Because they probably have a few things to discuss.

“I’d say that’s up to you,” he shrugs, nudging her shoulder with his. “What do you wanna do?”

There are a lot of things on the tip of her tongue in response to that, things that make her blush just in the confines of her mind, but if nothing else, right now she’s just relishing the gentleness and ease of this, the two of them beside each other.

“You want to have dinner?”

“Sounds good, Half-Sour.”

She can’t resist the temptation to tug him down for a kiss (because she _can_), light and teasing and soft, and he kisses her back so readily –

“_Claire and Brad, sitting in a tree…_”

She hadn’t even heard Delany walk past, but he’s across the hallway, singing under his breath as he grins at them. “_K-I-S-S-I-N-G…”_

“Ah, shut up, Delany.” Brad’s not even fazed; he just grins and steals one more kiss, wrapping his arm around her to pull her closer. Delany laughs.

“Have a good night, guys.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Claire waves as Delany walks off, and when the elevator dings and the doors open, she follows Brad into the car, watching him press the lobby button.

When Brad looks down at her, he tilts his head. As loud and chaotic as he is, right now, there’s no artifice, no distractions. Just the two of them. He’s beaming at her, his joy so pure that she can feel it all around her.

“Pretty good day, huh, Claire?”

“Yeah.” Her face is going to hurt from all this smiling, but she doesn’t even care. She’s never felt so light. “Pretty good.”

“Jar’s maybe two-thirds full?” he teases, settling his hand against her back, warm and gentle.

She wraps her arms around his waist.

“It’s overflowing.”


End file.
